


You Know I Dreamed About You

by PeopleCoveredInFish



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Time, M/M, ppsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleCoveredInFish/pseuds/PeopleCoveredInFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginoza Nobuchika is not a coward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know I Dreamed About You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnabelleRowan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnabelleRowan/gifts).



> Written for Psycho Pass Secret Santa. Merry Christmas, RRR!

> _God, I'm very, very frightening, I'll overdo it._
> 
> _-_ "Slow Show,"  _The National_

Ginoza Nobuchika is not a coward. Pragmatic, certainly, practical as the half-dozen suit jackets cramping the edges of his dorm closet, some nearly identical save for the looped stitching on the button holes. He’s merely looking out for himself, and that’s served him well these nineteen-odd years. There’s certainly nothing wrong with shoring up his disappointments with an iron-straight spine and a calculating sensibility, nothing unhealthy about couching that small, twisting part of him in granite and glass.

A twinge in his right temple. Someone has thrown a pen at him. “Gino.”

 _Ah_.

They’re in a four-hundred seat lecture hall, safely ensconced in the middle rows, far enough from the podium to escape notice but close enough to have a good view of Saiga-sensei, which is apparently what  _really_ matters to  _some_ people. He turns to look at Kougami, who, true to form, has stretched his legs out fully under the seat in front of him, leaning back in his chair with an air of unstudied casualness—which is complete bullshit. He’s recently ousted Gino as valedictorian.

“What.”

“Wanna grab coffee after this?”

It’s an 11:00 class, but they’ve just come from Topics in Modern Psychiatry, which is at 8:00, so he’s not averse to the idea. It’s just that Kougami is the one asking, Kougami, whom he’s had the pleasure of knowing since they were fifteen, Kougami, with his sharp focus and those damn  _legs_  and that constant half-smile that threatens to bloom across his lips at the slightest provocation.

“Fine,” says Gino, and if it’s got a bite to it, who can blame him?

But Kougami just nods and turns back to watching Saiga-sensei as he details the results and implications of the Milgram Experiment, and Gino resumes taking notes.

By the time they get to the university cafe, Gino has a minor headache and Kougami isn’t filling up the space with his usual chatter. “Black, two sugars,” Kougami tells the pretty blonde behind the counter, voice adrift with something like restlessness.

“Anything else, Shinya-kun?”

Gino straightens up at the familiarity of the address, suddenly tense under his heavy coat. But Kougami just smiles and says, “That’s all for me.”

She laughs and waves her hand. “Good, because my shift’s ending and I have a hot date.”

For one horrible moment, Gino thinks she’s winking at him. He’s combing his mind for something, anything to say when he finally notices that there’s someone behind him and that she’s smiling back at the barista.  _Right_. Gino relaxes, permits himself to breathe again, and orders a cappuccino.

“Did you want to talk about anything,” asks Gino, once they’ve taken their seats in a quiet corner.

“Nah,” says Kougami, and there’s the half-smile again, creeping across his face like the dawn, and Gino wants him to stop, almost wishes he would drink his coffee by himself and never speak to him again, but that would mean never seeing that little twitch of Kougami’s mouth and he doesn’t know if he can quite bear that, either.

From their corner he can see the barista and her date gathering up their things and heading for the exit, the blonde with her hand on the other woman’s lower back, brushing the fringes of her ponytail. He looks away.

“I thought Psych would never end,” says Kougami, conversationally.

Gino nods.

Silence.

“Saiga-sensei was looking pretty good today,” Ginoza tells his coffee cup, tapping his fingers against the edges of their table, “if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Kougami’s face runs blank for a moment. “Gino, I—”

“It’s fine,” he replies, stringing his breath through the words, “I have. Things I need to do, Kougami.”

And he stands up, fully intent on taking his leave, when Kougami grabs him by the wrist, nearly upsetting Gino’s coffee from his grip. “Wait. Let me walk back with you.”

Ginoza tries not to look at him. Tension crouches low in his jaw, edging out the familiar strain of practiced solemnity. It’s easier to say nothing.

The walk back to Ginoza’s dorm is weighted with a winter’s quiet, the dull ache of a grey afternoon, and while they keep their distance from each other on the path, Ginoza can feel something pulling them together sure as a magnet to cobalt.

“Hey,” says Kougami when they reach Gino’s door, and it’s soft and if Gino turns his head just a bit he thinks he might hear a plea. When Kougami kisses him it’s a brightness, taut between their mouths, spreading through their lips and tongues and Ginoza tries to remember the day, the time, because if he loses this he’s never going to forgive himself.

And his mouth says, “But.”

“Gino.” Kougami’s hands are on his shoulders and he might be holding back the urge to shake them. “You have to know. You’ve  _got_  to.”

But he’s treacherous, and so he says, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Kougami kisses him a second time. “You’re an idiot,” he whispers in Ginoza’s ear, and with the warmth underneath, it might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him.

And then, “Can I come inside?”

“What for?”

Kougami’s body language changes then, takes on a new leanness, an edge of hunger.

“It’s barely one in the afternoon,” says Gino, unlocking the door.

Sasayama is out, which is in itself a blessed miracle for which Ginoza is considering visiting a shrine. Kougami closes the door behind them; it clicks shut with a finality that pulses through Ginoza like something settled.

A moment for breathing.  

“Kougami, I...that is, well. I’ve never…”

And he  _hasn’t_ , it’s embarrassing, encyclopedias could be written about all the things Ginoza hasn’t done that others his age have already put behind them, but Kougami just draws him in for another kiss, slow and anticipatory. He can feel his face getting hot.

That’s when Kougami sinks down to his knees.

Ginoza says, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

The hands tugging at his belt pause, and Kougami sighs. “Gino, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? It’s okay if you’re not ready.”

Any explanation feels foolish; juvenile on his tongue. “Don’t...you like someone else?”

Kougami looks at him for a moment, seemingly puzzled, and then laughs. “You don’t mean Saiga-sensei?”

Ginoza says nothing; looks at a spot on the rug near Kougami’s shoes. Kougami continues, “Sure, he’s attractive. I won’t deny I find him fascinating as a professor. But I like  _you_.”

Looking down at Kougami like this must be doing something to his senses. His mind feels disconnected from his body, which has been sent off to float in some alternate plane of reality. “Oh?”

Kougami nods. “Yeah. Can I blow you now?”

“Don’t be lewd!”

Any further objections he has are lost in Kougami’s smirk, and following that, his mouth. The world holds tight to his skin; expands with every reverent breath. He threads his fingers through Kougami’s hair, traces him from nape to collarbone to the breadth and bracket of his shoulders, and the stretch of muscles beneath. He wants Kougami spread out beneath him, wants to taste himself on his lips, chase the strains of sensation moving between them. And when his blood rushes to meet his cries, he follows them with his thumb on Kougami’s cheek, pulling him home.

Kougami reaches to take himself in hand, but Ginoza is there first. They're on the floor; Kougami moving against Ginoza with a rising fervor, gasping into his mouth. He finishes quietly, breathing hard, eyes wide and clear.

They press through the minutes chest to chest, touching foreheads; pragmatic, practical Ginoza unspooled and soothed into smiles.

“Satisfied?”

Ginoza would shove the great, grinning lump off him if he weren’t so comfortable. “I think you know the answer to that one.”

Kougami moves to tousle his hair, to which Ginoza submits with a slight grimace. So much for disappointments.


End file.
